Jigsaw
by Devil917
Summary: After a fight with his dad, Sam takes off, making him an easy and desirable target for the crazy man with a twisted game in mind.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Jigsaw

Author: Devil917

Disclaimer: I own nothing, trust me.

Summary: After a fight with his dad, Sam takes off, making him a easy and desirable target for the crazy man with a twisted game in mind.

Warning: This story will get kinda dark.

Beta: Don't have one, sorry. I feel I work quicker without one.

Author's note: Is it weird to say that this idea came to me in a dream? Because it did. Also, try not to throw something at me. I understand I have a 'post new story' disorder and I'm getting treatment for it. But in the meantime,check this out, okay?

Also, in this story, Sam's about 16 and Dean's about 20. Cool? Cool? Cool. Read on (:

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**Chapter One. **

_Sam's eyes opened slowly, blurry and unclear. Everything around him was completely distorted. He didn't know where he was, and he doesn't remember how he got there. He was on a bed. A dirty mattress and even dirtier sheets covering it. Trying to sit up was impossible, his hands were tied behind his back, keeping him immobile. Sam shivered. It was cold here. Like, air conditioning on full blast for days, type of cold. _

_He wasn't even sure if he was completely awake. Something just wasn't making sense to him. He didn't feel scared, he didn't feel worried, he didn't fear for his life; even though deep down he knew he should. Somehow, all his emotion had drained away, leaving him in somewhat of a robotic state. But one thing he knew for sure? He knew he had to get out of here and he had to do it quick. There was no telling what's in store for him. _

_Looking around the room, he tried to take as much of it as he could in. It was dark, one overhead light barely making a dent in the room. The walls were plain and made of brick. Across the room were wooden stairs that led to somewhere Sam wasn't sure of. Maybe he was in a basement? Or a warehouse? On the floor was a single red and white rug. He looked around more carefully, trying to find a window, but there wasn't any. To the right of him, though, was a video camera positioned right at him. He squinted at it. There wasn't a red light blinking. It wasn't turned on. _

_In that moment, Sam began to realize just what type of trouble he was in. He pulse began to speed up a little, his breathing thinned out and weak. Something was wrong. How come he can't remember how he got here? How come he can't remember anything? _

_-Jigsaw-_

Dean pulled up to motel, and opened the door. John, was sitting at the table with his head in his hands and a disappointed look on his face. Closing the door slowly, Dean says , "Dad, what's wrong?"

John lifts his head, but doesn't answer.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asks, walking closer and taking a seat at the table.

John shook his head and raised his hands. "Don't know. He's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean. gone?"

"We got in a fight. Words were said - things that shouldn't have been said… and he left."

Dean felt his jaw drop just a little. "And you just let him go? You didn't try to stop him? You didn't go look for him?"

"Dean-"

"How long has he been gone?" Dean pushes his chair back quickly, almost tipping it over. He heads for the door grabbing his jacket. Almost instantly, John his behind him, taking hold of his arm.

John pushes the door closed. "Just wait a minute, son."

Dean could feel his eyes expand. "_Wait a minute_?"

Shrugging, John turns around and heads for the table again. "You know how your brother is. He's so ready to grow up. So if he wants to act like an adult, let him act like an adult. He'll come back."

Speechless, Dean walks back to the table, shaking his head. "You gonna tell me what happened with you two?"

John shrugged.

"I came home, he had an attitude. I don't know. Something was wrong with him. Before I knew it, we were yelling. Honestly, I can't even tell you what we were yelling about. Somehow, he ended up in the kitchen. We were yelling so loud, I'm surprised the cops weren't called. By then, things were really heated, and - I don't know, I-"

Dean leaned in closer, curious. "You did what?"

Running his hand across his forehead, John sighed. "I don't know what came over me, but- I hit him."

"You _hit _him, Dad? Really -"

John's face hardened. "I'm not proud of myself, Dean. I didn't mean to. It just- happened, okay? Then, he just left. I couldn't bring myself to stop him. Not after what I did."

Dean sat back, scratching the side of his head. He looked away, debating with himself. "I just wish you guys would stop fighting…"

John stood, walking in somewhat of a circle. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one."

_-Jigsaw-_

_Sam wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but when he woke back up, he felt even worse than he did before. He felt sick. Literally sick to his stomach. His head hurt. This time, he was more alert. Just a little more aware. His heart rate was up, so was his blood pressure. The room had a slight spin on it, making his head sure even more. _

_There were footsteps. Heavy footsteps that crept toward him. He saw a man. He was thick, but not fat. His hair was long, down to the center of his back. The man looked crazy, like ' I've been though hell and back and now I don't care how I act' kind of crazy. That scared Sam. He tried to move back, but he couldn't. _

"_Finally, you're awake." _

_It took Sam a while to actually register the words that the man had said. He gulped, receiving a salty taste that stung his tongue and the back of his throat. He made a face. The man, took a seat next to Sam on the bed freaking him out to the highest degree. The man shushed him. _

"_Calm down. Just calm down, alright," the man stated very slowly. He reached out for Sam slowly, heading for his jean pocket. He rummages through them, looking for something that Sam was unsure of at the moment. Sam's mind was still too clouded for him to react properly to what's happening to him. _

_When the man found what he was looking for, he took his hand out of Sam's pocket. _

"_Bingo," he says softly. He flips Sam's cell phone over and starts going through it. He flips though the numbers and smiles when he comes to the one he's looking for. He hit's a button and presses the phone to Sam's ear. _

_He smiles sickly. "Say hello to Daddy."_

_The phone rings once… twice … three times -_

"_Yeah?" came a familiar voice. _

_Sam's quiet for a minute, trying to find his voice. _

"_Dad…" his voice is weak, thin. He barely recognizes it. _

_On the other end, John's quiet for a minute. "Sam? Sam, where the hell are you? I-"_

"_Dad, help me…" Sam says softly just as the phone was ripped from his ear. _

"… _Sam? Where the hell are you? Sam? Sam!"_

_The man clears his throat. "John." he says heavily. _

_John gulps, hearing the unfamiliar voice . He grips the phone tighter. "Who the hell are you? Where's my son?"_

_By now, Dean's staring at John wide-eye, hearing his side of the conversation. _

"_Dad?"_

"_I know you hear me, you bastard," John scolds. "Where's my son?"_

_On the other end, the man laughs. _

"_What the hell is so funny?"_

"_You," the man answers. "You've got a lot of talk for someone who's missing a child."_

_John swallows hard. "What do you want?"_

_The man smiles, looking back at Sam half-conscious on the mattress. "Do you want to play a game, John Winchester?"_

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So, what's the verdict? Yay or nay?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for the support on the first chapter. I hope you guys are still interested in this story.

Also, I didn't realize when I started this story how much is sounded like the movie Saw. Call me stupid, but honestly I didn't realize. The title 'Jigsaw' was not from the movie when I was thinking about it , it's because they're going to have to put the pieces together - like a jigsaw puzzle - to find Sam and hopefully get him back. But the more I thought about the Saw thing, the more in played onto my crazy imagination and it really helped me some. So I'll keep that in mind as I write and I'll incorporate some of that general idea into the story because you guys seemed to react positively to it. Thanks guys.

Hope you're still interested in this story.

**Warning: **This story, especially as it progresses, will get a little dark. Probably kind of graphic and whatnot. But nothing too much, just to get the point across. And this dude... well , he's a freak.

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**Chapter Two:**

John gripped the phone tighter, trying to keep hold of his emotions as they ran through his veins. Dean took a step closer, completely clueless at the moment. His eyes were slightly enlarged as he watched his father swallow painfully and find his voice again.

"You have my son. This is no game," he replies as calmly as possible at the moment. On the other end his heard the man chuckle again. He says something under his breath and there's some movement. John bit his tongue slightly, when his mind began to wonder about what has happening to Sam at that exact moment. He shook his head slightly, trying to keep it focused as he impatiently waited for the mystery man to reply.

There was the sound of the man coughing before he said, "But, you see- the only way you're getting him back is by winning my game. You see, you and Dean are the players. And Sammy here-" the man pats the side of Sam's face. "well, he's the prize."

John looks over at Dean for a second, wondering how on Earth he knew his name. Dean looked at him questioningly, still left out of what's happening completely. But John could see the worry on his face clearly.

"You do want him back, don't you?"

Licking his lips, John shook his head. "Don't be stupid. Of course I want him back. I want him back alive and unharmed."

There was a dead silence on the phone for a matter of seconds. "Alive and unharmed?" the man asked. "Johnny, you're asking for too much."

The lump in John's throat just got bigger. He tried to swallow it, but it wouldn't budge. The anger and hate for a man that he hadn't even seen came to a sizzle . "I swear to you, if you even touch _one_ hair on his head I'll-"

The line went dead.

_- Jigsaw -_

_The man slammed the phone shut, anger written across his face for a minute. He looked around the room and found a sheet of paper. Quickly, he scribbled down John's number from Sam's phone and stuffed it in his jean pocket. After, he slammed the phone down on the ground watching it break into pieces. He knew how easily John could track Sam's phone and he couldn't take that chance. The game wouldn't be half as fun if John already knew where they were at, would it? _

_He looked around for a minute, his eyes ultimately falling on Sam again. He was still in the same position as the man had predicted. The sedatives he has injected Sam with are still running though his veins fluidly. His breathing was even and slow, his eyes were open a crack but weren't focused on anything. With his hands tied behind his back, he was unable to move his upper half, nor did he have the strength even if he wanted to. _

_Reaching down, the man took Sam by his arms and sat him up in the sitting position. He smiled at him. _

_Going into the drawer of the nightstand next to the table, the man took out a Polaroid camera. He took two steps back, positioned himself in front of Sam and snapped a quick picture. Setting the camera down, waiting for the picture to develop , the man sat on the bed. He eyed Sam strongly, studying him. He was familiarizing himself with Sam; getting to know him without saying a word. What he could tell was this : he's young. Couldn't be older than 17. He liked that. He's valuable. The way his father yelled at him, threateningly, surely told him that Sam was someone to be desired. He wasn't just some kid without a family or someone to care for him. This kid has a family. He's tough and fragile at the same time. He learned this when he'd first spotted Sam. Sam had put up a pretty good fight before he was finally able to take him, but before that the man noticed that Sam looked pretty shaken up. _

_Cranking his neck, the man leaned forward. He took hold of Sam's shoulders, breaking his lax body forward into his. He fumbled around behind Sam's back, trying to untie the rope around his wrist._

_"You're not gonna fight me, are you?" the man asked in a calm voice, knowing Sam wasn't going to answer. _

_Once he felt Sam's hands fall onto the bed, he dropped the rope on the floor and pushed Sam back so that he was resting on the dirty brick wall behind him. Sam's head fell forward, his hair swinging back and forth for a moment. The man smiled. He reached out, placing his hand just under Sam's chin. He lifts it, looking at Sam clearly. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't pleased at what he saw. Sam was just what he needed. Sam was - - perfect._

_-Jigsaw-_

"Dad, what the hell just happened? Where's Sam?" Dean asked, his voice frantic.

John shook his head, unknowing. "He's got him. I don't know."

"Who's got him?"

"I said _I don't know _, Dean," John answers, annoyance heard clearly in his voice.

Dean is quiet for a second.

"Well we need to find him, c'mon lets go!"

He heads for the door, but John pulls his arm, stopping him.

"Dad-"

"You can't just go out there, ready to take down anyone that looks suspicious. I know you're upset. Believe me, I am, too. I know you're scared. And I know you want Sam back more than anything, but we gotta be smart about this."

Swallowing hard, Dean shrugs. He knows that his father is right, but he'd sure love to bust someone's head in right about now.

"So what do we do?" Dean asks, giving in.

John looks around for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"He says he wants to play a game."

Confusion was clearly written on Dean's face. "Game? Wha-"

"I don't know," John says again. "He said we're the players and Sam's the prize. I guess he wants us to literally win Sam back, you know?"

Scratching the side of his head, Dean sighs. He doesn't even know what he thinks about this. It's all too much to take in at one moment. "Well... did he say anything else? I mean, do we get a clue? Anything?"

John shook his head.

"What the hell?" Dean yells.

Flopping down at the table, John puts his head down. Seeing no other option, Dean sits, too.

"Dad?"

Picking his head up slowly, John clears his throat.

"This is my fault."

"Dad-"

John puts his hand up, silencing him. "I'm serious. Think about it, Dean. If I never would've started that fight, it never would've escalated like it did. I never would've gotten that upset. I never would've hit him. He never would've left." John rubs his eye. "He'd be safe right now."

Dean was at a loss he didn't know what to do.

"You can't think that way, Dad. It'll eat you alive if you do. Just stay focused, okay?"

John nodded. "I know. I know."

There was silence in the room for a minute as each of them did their best as to not image all the possibilities that could be happening to Sam at the moment. Dean squeezed his eyes shut tight, shaking his head.

"Dad, we can't just sit here. We have to do _something_."

Again, John nodded. He stood up from the table and got his cellphone.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked, looking at his father suspiciously.

Without looking back, John replied, "I''m calling Bobby."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for the reviews and the support on the chapters. It's really appreciated. Keep sending them, please. Constructive criticism, anything. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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**Chapter Three:**

_The flashing light was the first thing that broke into Sam's dreamless sanctuary . It was a flicker, barely a spark, but it registered in his mind. It had traveled past is closed eye lids and connected with something deep inside of him, for it was he noticed first. For a couple of moments it was pitch black again, but then there it was again - and again. Sam stirred. Or, at least he thought he moved. He felt like he didn't have full control of his body. Like he was somewhere else, trying to will his brain to work properly. Something was obviously off. _

_The flash again. _

_Sam moved. His body, that is. His mind is slowly getting working again. Little by little, he's able to focus a little more on waking up fully. He breathed in deeply. He could feel his tight chest expanding greatly. It stung. It felt like he'd been choking. His throat hurt, too. But he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Not yet. Sam took in another breath. Each time it hurt a little less. Actually, it felt good. He tried to move his feet or even his hands, but he couldn't tell if it was working. He still felt disconnected from the rest of his body. He was beginning to get worried, but he couldn't even bring himself to panic. All his emotion- just like his energy, was drained. _

_More rapidly now, the flashes flicked. Was someone taking pictures of him? _

_Slowly- bit by bit, Sam became in more control of his body. He could feel that he was sitting on something... It was sort of soft, but was uncomfortable. The smell that roamed around him was near nauseating. He was rank. It was like mold, sour milk, poor pluming, and bad body order all at the same time. It was sickening. That's when it happened. That's when Sam's eyes finally opened. They didn't open much, but they were open. His head felt heavy. Like it weighed a ton and a half. His neck was stiff and sore. How long was he in that position? _

_Everything was blurry. From what he could tell, Sam was sitting on a mattress. A filthy mattress. Possibly the root of where that smell is coming from..._

_The flash was back. _

_Sam looked up, forcing his neck to move and his head to rise. He felt a pain run down his neck and down his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut, effectively clearing his blurred vision and helping the pain subside some. He coughed, and his lungs were instantly set on fire. He breathed in deeply again, calming himself. When he focused on what was in front of him he was finally able to see the man again. He was standing a few feet in front of Sam with a camera, snapping pictures of him. Sam couldn't help but wonder how long he was standing there taking pictures of him. _

_"Who...-" Sam tried to start, but his voice ran away from him, leaving him silent. His voice was weak still. Almost foreign to his ears. _

_The man pulled the camera from his eye and looked at Sam quite shocked. "You're awake," he says. His voice had a hint of surprise in it. He set the camera down and stood in front of Sam empty-handed. He eyed Sam slowly, blinking everyone in a while. Sam broke the eye contact, feeling uncomfortable with the way he's being looked at. The man cleared his throat, licking his lips. _

_Finding his voice, Sam tried again. "Who the hell are you?"_

_The man's eyebrows arched. He pointed to himself. "Me? Well...let's just say I'm the only person who can possibly tell your family where you are. I'm like the winning lottery ticket."_

_Sam swallowed. _

_"You name... what's your name?"_

_The man's eyes lit up. "Oh, that. I'm Matthew."_

_"Matthew-"_

_"Call me Matt," he cut in. Sam looked at him for a minute. _

_"Matt, where are we?" Sam asked, trying to stay as calm as he possibly could. _

_Matt laughed. He shook his head. "Can't say. It wouldn't be fun if I told you."_

_Sam was confused. "Fun? What woul-"_

_"The game. The game wouldn't be fun."_

_Now Sam was confused. But he wasn't about to argue. Not now. He needed to get as much information as he could from this guy. _

_Matt went over to the video camera and pressed a button. Almost instantly, a red light flashed right in Sam's face. He looked away. Matt smiled as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He looked back at Sam again. He looked at him in a way that made Sam's skin crawl. Taking in a short breath, Sam did all he could not to flinch. _

_"You know," Matt started. "I'm not a big fan of your father's."_

_Just like that, a light went off in Sam's head. His father. He's gotta be looking for him by now. Some way, some how he's going to find him. Sam always had his differences , but he knew that he'd stop at nothing at getting him back. _

_"My dad's gonna find you...," Sam says, trying to put a scare into his capture. _

_Matt smiled a little. "You better hope he finds me. See, if he finds me, he finds you."_

_Sam swallowed hard. _

_"You better make you you've got a really good hiding place. My dad and my brother will hunt you down like the animal you are-"_

_A hard backhand came across Sam's face, stinging his mouth and his cheek. He looked away as tears filled his eyes. As quickly as he could, he blinked them away. _

_"I'm not an animal. Do you understand me? I'm not," Matthew says to Sam. His voice hardened as well as his eyes. He breathes heavily as he looks over at Sam angrily._

_Sam breathed heavy, too. "My dad will hunt you down," he repeats, fearlessly. _

_Matt's face softened and he rubbed the side of his face. "You've got a lot of blind faith in your father, don't you?"_

_"Blind faith?"_

_Matt shrugged. "How do you even know he cares enough to came look for you? I seen you were upset earlier before I found you. I bet you it had something to do with him..."_

_Sam looked away, wondering how he could possibly know that.  
_

_Matthew reached out and touched Sam's face, just under his eye. Sam flinched, jerking away. _

_"Don't fucking touch me-"_

_"I bet he did that to you, didn't he? He hit you?"_

_Sam didn't answer. _

_But it didn't matter, Matt already knew he was right. _

_"They'll kill you if you hurt me."_

_Matt sucked his teeth. _

_"Hurt you?"_

_The man reached out, brushing Sam's hair and pushing it behind is ear. Sam jerked his head, leaning away. He smiled creepily at Sam. "Why would I want to hurt someone like you?"_

_Sam swatted at his hand, his eye's widening at the man's intensions. _

_"Get your filthy hands off me."_

_Matt looked at him, clearly upset from being rejected like that. _

_"You know what?" Matt says, standing. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides. Sam swallows hard. "You're gonna regret that..."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay, guys. I've been pretty busy. But I hope you guys liked the last few chapters and I hope you're still sticking with this story. Thanks so much for the reviews, they're really appreciated.

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**Chapter Four:**

"It's been a day, Dad. A day and we haven't gotten anything. Not a clue, not a phone call, nothing," Dean's voice was panicked as he paced the kitchen floor. His feet scuffed the tile slightly. With one hand he bit gently at his already shortened fingernail. He couldn't keep still. Dean's eyes darted around the room and landed on his father's who looked at him empathetically. John barely shrugged. He was just as stressed out as Dean was, but he had to keep it together. Not only for himself and for Dean, but for Sam. Going crazy and loosing his head now wouldn't so Sam much good.

John turned to Bobby who was on the other side of the room, staring out the window. It seemed like everyone was at a loss of what to do.

"What're you thinking, Bobby?"

Letting his hands slip though the cotton curtain, Bobby watched it fall closed, blocking them off from the world again. He spun on his heel slightly and walked toward John. He looked over at Dean. His eyes were tired. Bobby was willing to bet everything he owned that Dean didn't get any sleep last night. There was no way he could've. John either. Bobby could picture them up, sitting by the phone, unsure of what to do. 'He says he wants to play a game', Bobby remembered John telling him a couple hours ago when he arrived. As soon as Bobby heard that, he was sure they were dealing with some type of psychopath.

Bobby didn't really know how to respond. Honestly, he was thinking that they needed to get Sam back as quickly as possible because he had a really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn't tell them that. Not in front of Dean, that is. They kid would surely storm out of this house and make things a lot worse and harder than they have to be. Thinking of something else quickly, Bobby said, "Just thinking of someway to trace Sam's phone. Or try to figure out where the call came from. I just- I don't know."

Dean took a seat at the table. "Why can't we just go- look for answers or something. Dad, we can't just stay here we have-"

"We need to go about this the right way," Bobby cut in. His voice is calm and slow. It has to be. Yelling and screaming back at Dean isn't going to solve anything especially when they have bigger, more important things to worry about. "This man who has your brother... he could be dangerous. We don't know what his intentions are. We don't. So we need to be careful. He says he wants to play? Well, then we'll have to beat him at his own game."

"Play the player?" Dean asked, an eyebrow raised.

Bobby nodded. "Exactly."

Dean stood again, unable to keep still. "So how do we do that?"

John and Bobby exchanged looks. John cleared his throat. "We're not sure yet, but we will. We're just waiting for the call."

"How do you even know if there's gonna be a call? How do you know he's gonna do anything? How?"

John shook his head. "Dean," he called gently, but he didn't hear.

"You're not even acting like you want Sam back!" Dean yelled at his father, his face turning red. "You're just sitting 'round here like everything alright; like your son - my brother, isn't missing! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Having enough, John stood, knocking the chair back. "What's wrong with_ me_? What's wrong with you? You're so ready to jump the gun. You're bound to get all of us, including Sam, killed!"

Dean looked away. "At least I'm willing to try. It's like you've rolled over and quit already-"

Bobby stood, cautiously. His eyebrows scrunched as he moved briskly to the door. He was hesitant and careful.

"Hey," he called to the bickering father and son across the way, but they didn't hear.

Bobby cleared his throat and tired again. "Hey!"

Both Dean and John stopped yelling.

"I think I heard something," Bobby announces, as he reaches for the curtain and pulls it back just a crack. He peers though it, trying to see something- anything.

"Well...?"

In one quick motion, Bobby opened the door. His eye immediately dropped to the floor. At his feet was a brown box with a white note attached to it. Bobby looked back at Dean and John then bent down to pick it up. He carried it carefully, not sure that was in it. Just before he closed the door, he took a quick look around. It was dark, but he wanted to make sure no one suspicious was lurking around their motel room or anything. When he saw nothing, Bobby let the door fall closed.

John took a few steps. "Who's it from? Is it from _him_ ?"

Bobby shook his head, he was clueless. Gently he set the box down on the table and looked up at Dean.

"Open it," Dean says, eager.

Bobby and John exchange looks.

Seeing no other option, Bobby dragged his finger nail under the tape and lifted it. John reached for the note, and passed it to Dean to read aloud.

"Just remember, this is your fault," Dean read from the paper. He felt his heart skip a beat or two as he looked up at his father.

"It's a tape," Bobby says before John had a chance to respond.

Dean lets the note fall out of his hands. "Tape?"

"Yeah," John chimes in, taking it from Bobby. "Does this place have a VCR?"

John doesn't wait for an answer, he heads to the living room area with Dean following only stops behind. John tilts his head to the side, searching for it.

"There," Dean announces when he finds the VCR on the second shelf . "Gimme."

He takes the tape from his father, walks over to the television and turns it on. After fumbling with a few wires, Dean pushes the tape inside the player and takes a few steps back until he is shoulder to shoulder with his father.

For a few seconds, the tape was dark- pitch black. Then the screen was fuzzy and Sam was visible on the screen.

All three men let out an audible sigh, they were happy just to see him. It put that horrible thought out of their head that Sam might not still be living.

Sam was placed on a mattress, a filthy mattress and Dean's face scrunched when he noticed the dirtiness of it. Sam was unconscious, that was apparent, but his rapid breathing proved he was still living. John took a seat on the bed, feeling that he might need to sit down for whatever might happen next.

"Does that room look familiar to you?" Dean asked softly to his father and Bobby. From the corner of his eye, he saw them both shake their head 'no'.

John was studying Sam, trying to see if he was hurt in anyway. It didn't look like it, but he couldn't be sure.

Just then, a man moved into frame. His back was to the camera, his face couldn't be seen. He approached up to Sam slowly and took a seat on the edge of the bed. For a few seconds, the man just stared at Sam. Dean didn't know what was going to happen, but his heart was beating hard in his chest. They saw the man's head tilt to the side as he stared at Sam.

"What's he doing?" Dean asked in a barely heard voice. He wasn't really asking anyone - just speaking out loud, if anything.

The man reached out, grabbing Sam's shoulders and pulling him into what looked like a hug.

_"You're not gonna fight me, are you?" the man asked in a calm voice. _

Bobby, John, and Dean stiffened, all holding their breath. What was he doing?

The man's hands were behind Sam's back, doing something that none could see from the angle the camera was at.

Sam's head was on the man's shoulder, bobbling ever-so-slightly as he was being moved. Soon enough, the man leaned backward and pushed Sam back onto the wall. When the man stood again, the noticed that Sam's hands were no longer untied behind his back.

The screen went black. The three men exchanged looks, seemingly confused. Just when Dean was about to take the tape out of the VCR, another picture came into focus.

Sam was sitting on the same bed, still. This time he was awake.

_"You know, I'm not a big fan of your father's," the man said. _

John made a couching sound, but nothing more.

_"My dad's gonna find you..." Sam answers. His voice is weak and thin. He sounds tired. _

_The man laughed a little. _

_"You better hope he finds me. See, if he finds me, he finds you."_

"You're damn right we're gonna find him," Dean talks a loud. He could feel himself getting more and more anxious.

_"You better make you you've got a really good hiding place. My dad and my brother will hunt you down like the animal you are-"_

The man backhands Sam_._

_"I'm not an animal. Do you understand me? I'm not," Matthew says to Sam. His voice hardened as well as his eyes. He breathes heavily as he looks over at Sam angrily._

Dean flinches when he notices the tears in Sam's eyes. Sam blinks them away quickly.

John's face hardens.

_"My dad will hunt you down," Sam repeats, fearlessly._

_The man's face softened and he rubbed the side of his face. "You've got a lot of blind faith in your father, don't you?"_

_"Blind faith?"_

Dean and John exchange looks.

_"How do you even know he cares enough to came look for you? I seen you were upset earlier before I found you. I bet you it had something to do with him..."_

_The man reached out and touched Sam's face, just under his eye. Sam flinched, jerking away._

_"Don't fucking touch me-"_

All three, Dean, John, and Bobby stiffened. They didn't know what was going to happen, but they had a really bad feeling about it. Dean could feel his heard race in his ears. He swallowed hard and just prayed for it all to be over.

_"I bet he did that to you, didn't he? He hit you?"_

Dean couldn't help but sneak a peak at John. John felt guilty. He shook his head slightly, but didn't say anything a loud.

_"They'll kill you if you hurt me," Sam warned though gritted teeth. _

The man's shoulder's slumped a little as he moved closer to Sam.

_"Hurt you?"_

_The man reached out, brushing Sam's hair and pushing it behind is ear. Sam jerked his head, leaning away. He smiled creepily at Sam. "Why would I want to hurt someone like you?"_

Dean feels his jaw tighten. He swallowed hard, afraid for what was going to happen next. Dean looked down at his father with fearful eyes. Clearly they were both thinking the same awful thought and prayed that they were wrong. "Dad?" Dean says in a quiet voice, noting the man getting closer.

_"Get your filthy hands off me!"_

"I swear to God if you touch him..." Dean warned angrily at the man on the tape. He fidgeted on his feet, tapping his hand against his thigh anxiously.

The man's fists were clenched tightly at his sides. Without much warning, he laid a hard punch across Sam's face.

Dean squeezed John's shoulder, squinting his eyes slightly.

Sam kicked at the man, sending him back a couple of steps, but it didn't do much. The man huffed a little, like an enraged animal. Then he charged, literally charged at Sam. He threw himself on the teen forcing him to lie flat on his back on the bed. Dean, John, and Bobby couldn't see much. Each of them found themselves tilting their heads like it would make a difference.

The next thing they knew, the man was punching at Sam's face, chest, and rib area. They could hear Sam cry out as each heavy-handed punch land on him. They could see Sam swinging back at the man, but he weighed about four or five of Sam. He was too big and too strong for Sam to even have a chance.

Dean bit his bottom lip hard, gripping at his father's shirt.

Both John and Dean were close to jumping out of their skin. They felt so helpless.

Sam's body bucked, trying his hardest to get the man off. The man only laughed, delivering another punch to Sam's mouth.

This was just about the breaking point for everybody.

_"Alright, I'm sorry!" Sam called, turning his face away, only to have the man's brick-like hand land on his cheek bone._

_"Stop! Please, stop! **Please**!"_

Dean looked away, blinking away tears. John and Bobby, even though the hid it a little more, did the same.

Just then, Sam stopped yelling and his body stopped fighting back.

Everybody froze.

John and Dean exchanged looks from behind blurry eyes, baffled from what they just witnessed happen to their youngest.

The man stood up, his hands and knuckles bloody. He breathed heavily.

When he moved out of the way, they saw Sam lying limply on the bed, his mouth bloody and the side of his face dark bruised.

Then the man moved out of frame and the screen went black again.

Johns face was dark red, anger written on his face, hurt and worry in his eyes. He stood again. He and Dean didn't have to say anything, he simply pulled Dean into an embrace, letting it all sink in. They didn't speak, there was nothing to say.

A full minute didn't pass when the phone rang.

It rang once...

Twice...

Three times...

"Who is this?" Dean questioned in a broken voice. He cleared his throat, taking in a breath.

On the other end came a laugh.

"Did you enjoy my video?" the voice asked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry. I know. It's been a while. I have no excuse. Everything that I was writing didn't seem good enough. But it's not fair for you guys to want to read more, but you can't because I think my writing sucks. So enjoy this chapter if you can, I'd love to know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

Dean held his breath.

On the other end he heard a laugh.

"I _said _did you enjoy my little video? I sure know I enjoyed making it for you. I've got quite the little fighter on my hands, don't I?"

Dean gripped the phone tighter.

"You bastard," he says breathlessly into the receiving end of the phone. "I swear when I find you, I will rip you apart so damn fast it'll make you head spin!"

Both John and Bobby's head whipped around, shocked to hear Dean's yelling. John jogged to him with his hand out, gesturing for Dean to hand over the phone. "Give it to me," he instructed.

Dean didn't listen though. He kept a firm grip on the phone.

The man smirked.

"Easy now, Dean. You wouldn't wanna get me mad now would you?"

Dean almost laughed. "I don't give a damn how you're feeling."

"I guess you're forgetting one really important thing, then."

Dean made eye contact with his father. His eyes were wide, his hand outstretched, waiting impatiently for Dean to hand it over. Dean shook his head, trying to tell John that he can handle it.

"Oh yeah?" Dean replied. "What's that?"

There was silence on the other end and for a moment Dean thought that the man had hung up. But then he heard movement in the background and he knew that he hadn't ended the conversation yet.

"I have your little brother… and I can end his life whenever I want."

Dean gulped. The mystery man's words hit him hard, striking a nerve, but he kept his cool. He took in a breath, calming himself as much as he could. He knew that what the man said was the truth, but he couldn't let him know that. Dean had been taught not to show any weakness, especially to someone who thought they had the upper hand, just like this guy. So Dean closed his eyes for a second, steadied his voice, and answered, "Yeah you can; but you won't."

The man was almost shocked.

"I won't? And why's that?"

Dean looked down at the floor. "Because you said you want to play a game… and if Sam's the prize, you gotta keep him alive."

The man was silent, taking in Dean's statement.

"You make a point," the man says softly, almost as if he was upset that Dean had caught on. "But in order to get your prize, you've gotta find him."

Dean didn't say anything.

"Gimmie the phone, Dean," John demands.

Turning his back, Dean keeps his ear pressed to the phone.

"So how do I find him? Don't we get a clue or something?"

The man laughs. "A clue? I thought you guys were master hunters. Thought you can find anything out of nothing. Thought you were the best of the best… that's at least what little Sammy tells me. Y'know, he's got a lot of faith in you. It'll be a shame if you let him down."

Dean slammed his hands down on the table. Both Bobby and John jumped a little, unaware of what was being said on the other line to Dean. John tilted his head, getting a better look at his son. He was shocked to see his eyes cloudy and beginning to turn red with anger. Unable to take being clueless anymore he snatched the phone from Dean's hand and placed it to his head.

"Listen to me you son of a bitch, I don't know who you are and I don't know where you're at, but I know you have my boy and I will hunt you down and kill you. I promise you that. And you better pray, _pray _that he's gonna be alright -"

The man sucked his teeth. "Easy there, Johnny boy, I only wanna play a game, nothing personal."

John ran his hand through his hair. "You have my son. It's all personal to me."

Bobby took Dean by the arm and led him to the kitchen table, seeing how shaken up he'd become. Dean tried to resist, wanted to stay there, probably wanted to take the phone away from John, but Bobby made him.

"Just calm down, son," Bobby says to him softly, steering him down into the chair. "Just take a couple of deep breaths, okay?"

Dean simply nodded, but didn't say anything.

In the background, Dean heard his father arguing with the man on the phone. He was surprised that John was even wasting all of this time going back and forth with him. Usually his dad was the type of guy to shoot first and ask questions later, but this time it was completely different. This man had his dad cornered, pushed so far into a corner that John had no choice but to try and bargain with him, trying to get some type of clue. It was kind of sad to Dean to his his family put into this type of position. Sam was no longer considered a human, but more as a prize that could simply be won dead or alive.

John started yelling and it startled Dean who was lost in his thoughts.

"I will fucking end your life the minute I see you!" he yelled. Dean felt Bobby place his hands on his shoulders.

Suddenly John was silent, gripping the ends of his hair.

"_Sammy?" _He questioned, his voice was broken.

There was more silence.

"We're gonna find you, okay? We're gonna find you- what? What does that mean? Sam? What does that mean?"

Dean stood, so did Bobby, they both had confused looks on their faces.

John pulled the phone away from his ear, but his eyes were still set on the phone.

"You talked to Sam?" Bobby asked.

John only nodded as he hung the phone back up.

"What did he say?" Dean asked.

John shook his head, his eyebrows pulled together. "He said 'twelve- twenty six'."

Dean looked over at Bobby, both clueless.

"What is that? Coordinates?" Dean asked.

"Could be a room number," Bobby chimed it.

John shrugged. "Could be an address."

Dean raised his hands in frustration. "It would be anything."

John headed to the door, grabbing his jacket.

"Where're you going?" Dean asked, following behind him.

"This is the only lead we have, I'm gonna go make the most of it."

All three men grabbed their jackets and stormed out the door, hoping to find out what 12-26 stood for.

* * *

So, what do you think?  
Any guesses on what the numbers are for?  
Please review.


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